They Say You Can Never Go Home Again
Back to Taressa Miller Back to The New Adventures of a Raccoon Shaman They Say You Can Never Go Home Again “Shedim are spirits who inhabit the bodies of the dead and in some cases the bodies of astrally projecting mages. First reported appearences in 2061 ...” “Missed that one by three years.” Circe muttered. The voice droned on in Circe's ears as she strove to catch up with the last 13 years on earth. She had spend almost all the money she had earned updating herself. Commlink had to be purchased. The smart links in the revolvers had to be updated and slaved through the new bit of tech. The glasses had been the hardest to find here in remote Lagos. And then she had to update her knowledge. So much had happened. The Surge, the Crash, and Hank getting married and subsequently divorced. That one had surprised her. He had two daughters now, twins. Susie, the young cat shaman, Circe had once tutored was now only four years younger then Circe herself and helping Sherry run the Home for Young Wayward Mages and Shamans. Circe had smiled over that. Before it had only been for mages. It seemed Susie had had something to say about that. She felt it best to leave them alone. She knew Tex was dead and gone, but she had no idea where the others were. “Stop play back and search ShadowTalk. Keyword Buster.” Circe said to her commlink. “There are no entries for Buster,” said her commlink back to her. “Bah.” Circe paced her room a minute. Newly acquired crystals hung shimmering in her window and she reached out and sent them swinging on their strings. Light flashed around the room. The window showed the strip of Vegas outside thanks to her new programs and glasses “Search ShadowTalk. Keyword Team Ninja” “14 entries found.” “First entry.” “Team Ninja was a Shadowrun team based in Las Vegas, Nevada. Their recorded run list included...” “Stop play back.” Circe stripped the glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose. She walked out of her room and into the one next door. The lodge she had set up enveloped her in it's comfortable signature. Dr. Pie, the one she was staying with in his abandoned firehouse, the “Ghostbuster”, hadn't been so keen on the idea. Damned groggy hermetic. “They're out there. Not all of them. Certainty not Tex. But some of them are still out there” said an increasingly familiar voice. Circe looked to the center of the room. Raccoon was sniffing at a large geode. “Pretty.” “Now what?” Circe sighed heavily. Raccoon reared up on its hind legs and seemed to grow taller then the room. “Respect, little one.” it's eyes flashed with power. Circe merely put her hands on her hips and stared back. Raccoon shrank back down to size and flopped onto all fours once more. “And that is why I picked you. Such gumption. Though a good raccoon knows when to run up a tree.” “And then get shot by the hunter. I once saw Where the Red Fern Grows. That didn't end well for many a raccoon.” “Yes... well...” Raccoon pondered that a moment. “How's the attacks?” “Better. Less frequent.” “Good Good. Can't have you breaking down after the effort it took to get you out of there.” Raccoon pawed a small glass figure and it disappeared somewhere in it's fur. “That newly made free spirit was a lot of help in freeing you.” “Why *did* you get me out of there?” “Tut tut. Now what kind of totem would I be if I reveled all my tricks?” Circe threw her hands up in the air and cast her eyes to the ceiling. “What is it with....” she looked down to find herself alone. “...totems.” she took a quick survey of the room and it was indeed empty. “Will you stop doing that?!” Just a hint of laughter grazed her ears.